


The only one he ever loved

by LuciaBlack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, F/M, Love Triangles, Romance, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:33:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24337462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciaBlack/pseuds/LuciaBlack
Summary: Claudia Black has it all: she excels at her studies, is the niece of Albus Dumbledore, and has been chosen as the Hogwarts Triwizard Champion. Her renown draws the interest of Tom Riddle who is, apparently, visiting Hogwarts on behalf of the ministry. At first Claudia is is wary of that enigmatic, alluring, controversially minded individual. Yet it's only a matter of time until she draws dangerously close to the man who is secretly calling himself 'Voldemort'...
Relationships: Regulus Black/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s), Tom Riddle & Original Female Character(s), Tom Riddle | Voldemort/Original Female Character(s), Tom Riddle/Original Character(s), Tom Riddle/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

When Tom Riddle first visited number twelve Grimmauld Place, he was on business. He’d heard the Blacks were supportive of blood purity and wanted to see if he could gain their support. At twenty eight, he was still the hauntingly handsome young man with the architectural jaw and beautifully curved nose that everybody admired. His hair was a labyrinth, his eyes an inward breath. He arrived at Grimmauld place by apparating and, as he opened the front gate, he ran a hand along the stitching on his robe. Then he moved through the well tended garden and knocked on the door once, waiting with his hands in his pockets. The house elf opened the door, standing aside to allow him into the entrance hall with a ‘Good afternoon Sir’. He didn't respond to its greeting, but observed the shoes that had been left at the entrance. Five pairs: they had a guest. Keeping his shoes on, he moved through the entrance hall into the kitchen. Mrs Walburga Black opened the kitchen door and hurried to greet him.  
“Mr Riddle. Come, make yourself at home. Could I offer you something to eat? Something to drink?”  
Riddle smiled concisely at Walburga and sat at the chair she indicated to him. “No thank you, I had something before I came.” His hands contracted over the table. “I see you have good taste in china."  
“Oh? This?” her pride was peach coloured. “It’s been in my family for generations.” and as she admired the china, her husband Orion entered the room, nodding to Riddle before seating himself across the table. Kreature was beside him, but only his ears were visible from where Riddle was sitting.  
“So you’re Riddle. Pleasure to finally meet you.” Orion said, extending a hand over the table. Riddle considered a moment before shaking it.  
“Likewise.”  
“My wife looking after you?” Orion observed the empty space before Riddle, and seemed to see a deeper emptiness as he looked into the man’s eyes.  
“Mr Riddle didn’t want anything.” Walburga said.  
“I’ve already dined.” Tom gave a smile that resembled the fruitcake Walburga was slicing for Orion. After putting down the cake before her husband, Walburga made herself and her husband tea. The conversation began tentatively; Riddle was an expert in ‘space’ — he gave it at the correct moments, with a correctly inquiring expression. It was a kind of space that others couldn’t help but fill with secrets, confessions, regrets, only later realising that they’d said more than they’d intended. In this space, Orion began conversing with Riddle about the tarnishing of the wizard race. They discussed blood traitors and mudbloods, wizarding education and the purification of the wizarding world — or, more accurately, Riddle let Orion speak of these things, watching while the man turned frequently to his wife, who supported him with nods and hums. Riddle soon understood the depth of their convictions.  
After some twenty minutes of discussion, Regulus entered the room without knocking. He seemed to understand that he had entered a place he shouldn’t have, for when Tom turned around and regarded the youth, he was already trying to leave. It was the meek eyes and unresolved mouth that made Riddle aware that this was the first member of the family that he could use.  
“You really should knock Regulus.” Walburga said, “Mr Riddle, this is my youngest son.”  
“Hello.” Regulus nodded awkwardly.  
“A pleasure to meet you.” Tom replied, before turning to Orion. “I need to visit the restroom. Would you mind directing me?”  
“Regulus will take you.” Orion said, gesturing to his son. Riddle stood, tucked in his chair, and followed the boy out of the room and down the hallway. The sound of Kreature hobbling on the landing above was louder than their footsteps.  
“How old are you?” Riddle asked, ascending the stairs behind Regulus.  
“Sixteen.” Regulus looked back at him.  
“I assume you’ll be doing your OWLS this year?” It was a testament to Riddle’s superb observational skills that he was able to see the way Regulus grimaced as he said this.  
“Yeah.”  
“And what do you intend to do after Hogwarts?”  
Regulus shrugged his shoulders — a motion that pleased Riddle. As they reached the landing, Riddle heard music playing from a room down the corridor. Franz Liszt, but he recognised it only as some sombre melody.  
“The bathroom’s just in here.” Regulus said, interrupting the music and opening the bathroom door before awkwardly beginning back down the corridor. Tom waited for him to depart, then closed the door and continued down the landing without visiting the bathroom. Candlelight hummed on the carpeted floor and the recently polished doorknobs flamed as he walked. There was no sound other than the piano, which was playing from an open door at the end of the corridor. He moved through the ascending notes of O pourquoi donc.  
He wasn’t expecting to see the girl. Her Ag robes were rivering around her body as she silently performed complex magic in time with the music. Silver light from the incantation balleted around her, giving her skin an almost etherial texture. Even to Tom, she was beautiful. When she turned to complete the enchantment, she saw him watching and stumbled back onto the piano. The music stuttered.  
"Excuse me." she said, regaining her posture, "I didn't think anyone was watching." and she waited a moment for the alluring man to say something. But he did not move. There was that covetous look in his eyes, one that his customers in Borgin and Burkes would have recognised, but one that Claudia did not. The enchanted piano continued.  
"May I help you?"  
He watched the sunrise and sunset of her chest.  
“I was just intrigued at your command over the Selis illumines spell. That was very advanced magic.” his body was predatorily still.  
She looked away. “I have a deep interest in ancient magic. It would be embarrassing if I couldn’t perform to that level at least.”  
The piano reached the end of the song, and Liebestraum began. Riddle looked over to it.  
“You enchanted the piano also?” he asked, his eyes back on her immediately.  
“Yes.”  
There was the sound of a door opening and closing in the hallway. Tom turned to see Sirius Black emerging from his bedroom. Their eyes met.  
“Alright?” Sirius said, his hand coming off the handle and his body turning toward the man in his cousin’s doorway.  
“Good afternoon.” There was a slight smile on Tom’s face; Sirius regarded him with unsubtle hostility.  
“You must be Sirius.”  
“That’s me. Who’re you?”  
“Tom Riddle.”  
Claudia replaced her wand into her robes and tentatively moved toward the doorway so she could see Sirius also. Her hair was falling out of the ponytail she put it in, and was cobwebbing over her shoulders. As she neared him, Tom smelt the dusk rose from her neck.  
“He your friend, Claudia?” Sirius asked.  
“Your parents’, I believe.” she smiled at him and looked up at Tom with her enticingly curious eyes. For a moment, only the piano moved. Then Tom stepped away from her and past Sirius.  
“I’m afraid I’m keeping them waiting.” he said, placing one hand into his pocket. “Pleasure to meet you.” and he walked down the corridor without looking back. Claudia’s “Likewise,” almost stopped him. Almost. But he was already thinking, already calculating. He descended the stairs and opened the door to the dining room. The three Blacks were conversing about Regulus’s appointment as Prefect.  
“Ah, Mr Riddle. Our boy’s just received his Prefect badge.”  
“Congratulations.” Tom said. But he was hardly listening.  
“Head boy next, and nothing less.” Orion said, only realising his teacup was empty when he had picked it up. Something about the gap which Riddle had opened up in the room made him speak too freely, “Better than your brother in every way. Does Claudia know?”  
“Yes. She got her Head Girl letter at the same time.”  
“Head girl, eh?”  
“It’s hardly surprising. She’s related to Albus Dumbledore, after all. Have you met Claudia Black, Mr Riddle?” Walburga turned to him.  
“I met her on my way downstairs.” Tom’s back was a straight line down.  
“She’s our niece. My brother Alphard married a Dumbledore and she was their only daughter. Normally, I wouldn’t allow a relative of the Dumbledores into the house, but she’s such a successful girl and has the pure blood to back it up. My sons adore her. Did you meet Sirius too?” And, perhaps not wanting to look at Riddle when he answered, Walburga folded her napkin and rubbed her thumb along the family logo. Regulus was watching the exchange from the other side of the table.  
“I did.”  
Kreature entered the room, carrying a dusting rag. Orion turned at the sound of the door, but looked back with a grunt when he realised it was the elf.  
“Care to stay for dinner?” he asked.  
“That would be delightful.” Riddle replied, “If it is no trouble, of course.”  
“No trouble at all. It’s nice to have some intelligent company.” Orion brandished his hand. “Regulus, go and let Sirius and Claudia know there will be a guest at dinner.”

There was only one reason that Tom Riddle stayed for dinner, and she entered the room at exactly six o’clock. Her hair was washed and curled, bunching against her bare shoulder, and she was wearing asymmetric robes of a sea kelp green. She sat beside Sirius, directly opposite Tom. As they ate, he noticed her posture and the slight inclination of her head toward the person who was speaking. He also noticed the way she held her knife and fork incorrectly and the intimacy between her and the two boys.  
“Has your great uncle told you anything about the upcoming Triwizard tournament, Claudia?” Walburga asked, placing her knife and fork together on her plate.  
As Claudia showed a tea party smile, Riddle realised instantly that she had a skill for diplomacy. “He’s mentioned it.”  
“Of course, you’ll be entering, won’t you boys?” Orion pointed his steak knife at them. Regulus looked away uncomfortably.  
“I’ll be entering.” Sirius said, inclining into his chair. “James and I spoke about it last year.”  
The displeasure on Walburga’s bottom lip at the mention of ‘James’ was evident. She turned to her other son. “I hope you will also be entering.”  
“I might.” he muttered.  
“And what about you, Claudia?”  
“Certainly.”  
It was not the first time Tom saw the vivacity in her eyes, but it was the time he remembered most prominently. Regulus glanced up from his dinner to look at her, and Tom was particularly interested in the yearning whites of the boy’s eyes.  
“It’s such a shame that there’s been no Hogwarts champion for such a long time. I can only hope that a suitable Hogwarts champion is chosen this year.” Mrs Black wiped a crumb from the tablecloth. There was an eating, swallowing silence. Then Orion punctured the quiet as he placed down his cutlery.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom sat watching the morning awaken in his study after a sleepless night, one leg crossed over the other. From his window, he could see the watercolours of six-clock dawnlight, the opening and closing of beaks and the exhale of birdsong. At the sound of his servant moving into the room, he uncrossed his legs and stood.  
“G-good morning, My Lord…”   
But Tom moved out of his library and down the hallway without looking at the man. There were squares of light on the carpet from the latticed windows which Mondrianed him as he walked to his dining room. Beside his breakfast plate was a copy of The Daily Prophet. He did not eat the food set out for him, but sat and read the paper. The girl on the front page under the title ‘Triwizard Champion’ had a familiar, thieving smile and celestial eyes. In the excessively sized photo, she standing with two others, one French, one Dutch, both male, all of them facing the reader. With a sip of the potion that had been left out for him, Riddle summoned his servant and requested his travelling cape. He also instructed that a trunk with provisions be sent to him at Hogwarts.

Riddle had remembered Hogwarts excellently: there was the same phatic and incessant noise throughout the corridors and the knife of colour under the house robes were just as vibrant. He made his way down the straight lined corridors to the headmaster’s office, Dumbledore’s letter folded impeccably in his pocket. Students regarded him as he passed. Among the teenagers were students from Durmstang and Beaubaxons, whose eyes were also drawn to him. With characteristic composure, he waded through the melted conversations. At times he smiled, watching the colour on the girls’ faces and, eventually, he arrived at the staircase, which was already in motion. He waited at the base, then, as the stairs finished rotating, he saw her, throat first. Her nebulous, motional hair smoked as she stopped before him. She looked up, and he saw something delicious in her eyes. The colour seemed to unfurl forever beneath her pellucid complexion. It was, undoubtably, Claudia Black: Dumbledore’s niece, triwizard champion, Ravenclaw. But the Daily Prophet reporter had not mentioned her dreaming expression or the determination that was obvious from the way she stood; the photographer had not grasped that movement in her face or her chest. She smiled.  
“Mr Riddle.” she said, her cloak flickering as she breathed. “How lovely and unexpected to see you again.”  
He had an urge to still that impatient body of hers, so he put out a hand and blocked the doorway completely.  
“Likewise. It’s interesting that we should meet before my formal introduction to the school.” and he bent discreetly closer to her. There was the smell of roses from her neck. “I’ve been invited to judge at the Triwizard Tournament. I am under the impression that you are one of the champions?”  
“Yes.” she said, bowing slightly, “Though you knew of my intentions when we met at Grimmauld Place.”  
She had such an unyielding voice. He moved his hand from the wall and was very close to touching her.  
“I look forward to seeing your performance in the first task. You are, I assume, prepared?”  
“As much as possible.” The colour of her lips contrasted with the marble. She turned to look up the stairs. “My uncle is alone right now, you found a good time to visit him.”  
“Indeed.”  
“It was wonderful to see you. I hope…” but as she met his eyes, the words were ossified. She understood that politeness wasn’t going to work.  
“We will certainly meet again soon Claudia.” Tom gave a dehydrated chuckle. Her mouth parted slightly.  
“I look forward to it.” and she moved past him.  
He didn't watch her go. Instead, he took the steps two at a time until he was at the headmaster’s door.

Dumbledore didn’t want him at Hogwarts, and it pleased Tom to know that his actions were something disconcerting to the Headmaster. He had no real interest in the tournament — he was here to see which students were malleable enough to be convinced to follow his philosophy. As always in this place, the morning was infused with the smell of croissants and jam and the tumbling sound of cereal. Riddle was making his way to the great hall, where he perceived Claudia across the grounds. She was not wearing her robes, but was instead in leggings and a loose t-shirt. He regarded the shape of her legs and the Mexican wave of her body. She was sweating, and he was aware that she was in the process of slowly reclaiming her breath. A fifth year Ravenclaw called out to her and she shyly looked down at her knees before looking toward her and waving. Then her eyes were on Tom and it was as if all that fumbling breath of hers was in his mouth. He smiled at her, an expression that she returned. A Durmstrang student patted her on the back and it was gone. Tom watched the interaction with a small frown. He thought of the distance of his palm and the space it would cover on her back - space which would soon would be his. Slowly, he walked into the great hall, past the countless glasses of pumpkin juice and the curious glances of students. Yes, she’s was certainly a popular, model student, similar to him. But she frolicked in the light and he could see it in the softness of her eyes. He was looking forward to introducing her to darkness.

Tom spent the next two days orchestrating observations of classes. It was an arduous process, but eventually Dumbledore, under pressure from the ministry, gave him permission. Riddle, with the school timetable folded precisely in his pocket, returned to the great hall for lunch. Slughorn stopped him on his way to the staff table.  
“Coming to see my potions class this afternoon Tom?”  
“Indeed I am, Professor.” he said, with an intractable smile.  
“Great news. I can’t tell you what a pleasure it will be to have you. I’ve got a great set of students in my NEWT class this year. Severus Snape is an excellent young man, and Lily Potter is also showing tremendous potential. She’s going to become something that one. However I’ve got one who’ll really astound you - she’s a superb alchemist.”  
“Who is it?”  
“Need you ask, dear boy? I’m talking about Claudia Black, our champion. But of course, it’s hardly surprising, considering her heritage. Come and watch, Tom, come and watch.”  
“Yes, I think I will.”

The watery candlelight showed them the way to the dungeons. No students were in the corridors yet, so Slughorn and Riddle walked alone. Slughorn was talking about the rareness of the serpent venom Tom had just handed him and there was a habitual, slightly tired smile on Tom’s face.  
“My pleasure. You, after all, are the professor who understood me best.”  
“All the same, I’m delighted. You must come to my office this afternoon and see my display. Got some rare things on my travels this summer.” Slughorn opened the door to his classroom. This time Tom was prepared to see her. She was alone, her hair tied back, leaning over a cauldron.  
“Ah. Claudia. To what do we owe this pleasure?” asked Slughorn.  
“Good afternoon, Professor,” she said, turning directly to Slughorn without looking at Riddle. “I’m brewing a vial of liquid luck.”  
“Merlin’s beard. Let’s have a look.” and Slughorn approached the golden substance in the cauldron with a lopsided smile. “Excellent, excellent. You added the dragon scale I imagine?”  
“I did.”  
“And how long has it been brewing?”  
“Since six o’clock, sir.”  
“Yes, yes. May I?” without waiting for permission, he scooped up a vial and held it under the light. “I daresay it is perfect. What did I tell you Tom?” Slughorn turned to Tom and patted him on the shoulder to draw him closer. “My star pupil.”  
“I don’t deserve the flattery, sir.”  
“Nonsense. Anyway, let’s find a space for your cauldron before the other students get here.” He took out his wand and cleared away some ingredients that had been left on the side. “Help her with that, would you Tom?”  
As Tom stepped toward her, she regarded his impeccably buttoned shirt, the parallel lines of his pressed robes, and his dusk flecked hair. Then she smiled and took out her wand before magically moving her potion from the table to the space Slughorn had cleared without his help.  
“Is this yours?” Tom asked, taking up the Phoenix feather and holding it out to her.  
“Yes.” and she smiled again. However, as she moved to take it from him, he withdrew his hand. Her arctic eyes moved over him.  
“You’re forgetting something.” he said.  
Her smile faltered. There was a birdlike movement of her eyebrows. Suddenly the door opened and she turned away from him as students entered the room.  
“Claudia!” a girl called, noticeably curious about the man standing with her friend. “Were you here all lunch? Have you eaten anything?”  
“Yes, I ate while I worked.” she said, moving past Tom.  
“What are you making?”   
The students began to discuss the potion. Before long, Slughorn had joined in, laughing at a joke a boy made and slapping him with unnecessary vigour on the back. Claudia’s friend took frequent opportunities to glance over at Riddle. When the rest of the class had arrived, the students went to their tables. Claudia reassumed her seat next to Tom, who was rolling the feather between his fingers. She didn't acknowledge him while Slughorn introduced the potion they would be making, but when the professor paired her with him and instructed them to begin, she turned her whole being to him.  
“Professor Slughorn has a great opinion of you.” she said, taking her textbook from her bag and opening it to the correct page. “You must be a superb alchemist.”  
“I get by.” he said, still twisting the feather. He was wearing a ring with a lightless stone in it, which rocked as he rolled his fingers.  
“Here,” he handed her the feather and purposefully touched her fingers as he did so. She looked directly into his nighttime eyes.   
“Thank you.” she murmured.   
“You’re welcome.”  
Together, they began to make what would be a flawless concoction.  
At the end of the session, Slughorn stood behind them and peered into their cauldron.  
“Merlin’s beard! What a feat. Gather round, gather round. Watch yourself Evans. Now, Black, did you follow the recipe?”  
“We made a few amendments, Professor. Mr Riddle recommended we change the quantity of asphodel and I suggested we powder the wormroot.”   
“And exquisite amendments they were. I hope the rest of you were noting this down, as this will very likely come up in your NEWTS. Snape, you also changed something in the recipe. What was it?”  
“I also changed the quantity of the asphodel.” the youth said, turning his head away from the pretty, forested student called Evans as she looked at him.  
“Right, right, good job. As for homework, I want everyone except for Black and Snape to write me an essay on the circumstances in which this potion would be most useful.”  
The class began to leave. Claudia vanished her potion without looking at the man beside her. As she packed the rest of her things, a girl approached Riddle and started asking him questions about himself. Having finished packing her bag, Claudia looked over at him and smiled goodbye, before joining her friends and leaving the room. He watched her upright back, cloudy hair and the shape of her body under her cloak. Also he took note of Snape, who was staring at him from between the draperies of his hair. Then he turned to the girl in front of him and gifted her his most charming smile before excusing himself.


	3. Chapter 3

It was evening and, as usual, Claudia was in the library, reading up new spells for the upcoming task. There was a packet of chocolate almonds on her lap. Every ten minutes or so she took one and chewed it without looking away from her book. While the library was relatively busy, Claudia was sat at a table alone. Tom entered, noticed her, then took up a book and sat beside her. It wasn’t until she recognised his absorbent ring that she gave her eyes to him.  
“Good evening.” she whispered, folding her hair behind her ear. Then she held out the packet of almonds. He took one with a smile.  
“Food is not permitted in the library.” he said, close to her.  
“And yet you’re eating.” she brought the packet back to her lap and took another for herself. He watched her chew as she returned her attention to her book. The candlelight moved over her throat and, as Tom watched her swallow, he became aware of some dangerous emotion. He wanted to crush that mischievousness of hers; to push her back onto the desk and have that fizzing hair between his fingers.  
“Researching for the tournament?” he leaned so far over the text that his hair touched hers.  
“Yes.” she turned the book around for him to see while pulling away from him with beautiful subtlety. “There’s been no clue, but I envision that the first task will require combat magic.”  
Carefully, and without hiding his admiration, he took the book from her.  
“I could help you practise these.” he said gently, looking into her chromatic eyes.  
“Thank you for the offer, but I imagine you’re very busy. I would hate to trouble you.” there was some cloudy colour forming over her cheeks now; his undiluted gaze made her uncomfortable.  
“It’s no trouble.” he said, handing her back the book and standing. “Meet me in the room of requirement at ten o’clock.”  
It was not a request. The weight of the book on her lap became suddenly unbearable. She looked back up, but he was already leaving, his cloak falling in golden ratio lines down his back. At the entrance of the library he was stopped by a Slytherin sixth year, who proceeded to whisper to him cordially. Claudia watched them, her beautiful mouth flowering against her skin. Tom’s eyes moved to her, and he smirked almost imperceptibly. At this, Claudia returned her attention to the closed book in front of her with her lips and cheeks blooming in unison. She did not look up again for the rest of the evening.

“You don’t find him attractive at all?” Alison asked, as they move up the motional staircase.  
“He’s handsome.” Claudia said, waving to a portrait that had taken his hat off to her every day for the last three years. “But I don’t trust him.”  
“Well, suit yourself.” Alison was the faster walker, so she turned the corner before her friend. “At this rate, you’ll be single forever, and I won’t be sorry.”   
The door to the room appeared, and Claudia was content for her impatient friend to open it first.  
Tom was sat in the centre of the room on an armchair. In his slender hand was the same book that Claudia had been reading in the library. Along the back wall was an immense bookshelf. Tom looked up from his book with a smile on his mouth but a flicker of anger in his eyes.  
“Hi, Mr Riddle,” Alison had left her friend at the door. “I heard that you were going to help Claudia practise her spells. Mind if I join you?”  
“Not at all.” his expression toward her friend was courteous, but as Alison put her bag down, his eyes went to Claudia. There was a sudden, snaking sensation against her spine. Claudia looked away, her hand on her chest.  
“Let’s begin, shall we?” he said, taking out his wand and standing. Alison fumbled in her robes for hers. Claudia remained still.  
“You wanted to use the impediment charm, didn’t you Claudia?” he said her name easily. “Come, take out your wand.”  
“I won’t need it.” she said, moving over to where Alison was standing.  
“Claudia is famous in the school for her wandless magic.” Alison said, “But you could show me how to hold my wand.”  
Tom regarded them both a moment; his eyes lingered on Claudia. Then he moved over to Alison and demonstrated how to perform the curse. Alison exploded the bookshelf at the back of the room, and began talking about her clumsiness with the usual zealousness with which she spoke about anything to do with herself. Tom steadied his patience and began to teach the girl carefully how to perform the curse. As he did so, Claudia went to the armchair and took up the book he had been reading. She had mastered the incantation before Alison’s third attempt.  
After an hour, with Alison no closer to being able to complete the spell, Tom announced an end to the evening. His anger was smouldering, but his expression was composed. He bid goodnight to the two girls. Yet as soon as Alison had left the room he took hold of Claudia’s arm.  
“Wait a moment.”  
His grip hurt. She turned to him, some uneasy emotion ringing her irises. “Please go on ahead, Miss Taylor.” His command was infused with magic. As Alison left, he shut the door. Claudia did her best to stay composed, but his proximity was toxic. She felt herself breathing less steadily than she wanted.  
“Is something the matter, Mr Riddle?”  
“I thought you said that you didn’t want to waste my time.” his voice had the texture of snakeskin. “I was here tonight to help you, not your friend.”  
She coloured before attempting to come away from him.  
“I’m sorry. It was thoughtless of me.”  
A lie. She’d thought about it carefully, and he knew. Something about the way he looked at her made her understand his patience came at a cost.  
“Thoughtless indeed. What will you do to make up the hours of my time spent on teaching that silly friend of yours?”  
“What do you mean?” There was something unwavering in her expression, something that became more steadfast the more difficult things were. He liked her discomfort.  
“I mean that you owe me, Claudia.”  
She almost challenged him — he could see it in her eyes.  
“What is it you want?”  
He laughed, just once, then traced his poisonous hand up to her neck. “The rest of your evening.”  
“I can stay for an hour.”  
Such boldness, coming from a throat only inches away from his fingertips. He smiled, but it was a smile with nothing in it for her.  
“Then let’s begin, shall we? You said the first task was combative.” A finger at a time, he released her neck, “Come, take out your wand.”  
She did so.  
“Good.” and he reached into his pocket for his own wand. “Well then,” Graciously, he began to explain a spell she hadn’t heard of, standing behind her as she raised her arm in accordance with his instructions. She performed it perfectly on the first attempt.  
“As I expected. Now you’ll practise using it against me.” He moved back and those carbonated eyes of hers followed him. That journeying body, under her cloak, turned completely to him, as it should.  
“In a moment, I’ll make to stun you. Counter with that spell.”   
His wand was lolling between his thumb and index finger. She had always been intrigued by the way he held his wand and he knew it.  
He cast the first spell. She deflected it and used the newly learned incantation against him. This he countered easily, before sending a jinx at her. She shielded herself, but was taken aback by the second spell from behind. As she spun around to block it, he grabbed her arm and pulled her against him.  
“Your left side was vulnerable.” he spoke close to her ear.  
“So it seems.” she was looking down at his mountainous knuckles, which were clenched around her waist.   
“Again.”  
He released her, enjoying the colour he forced on her cheeks. They repeated the sequence several times, and he could tell that the more his skill challenged her, the more she enjoyed herself.  
“You’re amazing. I’ve never duelled like this.”  
“And you are learning quickly.”  
He sent a series of hexes at her which gradually backed her into the wall. Before she could move back into the centre of the room, he placed his hands on the wall either side of her face. She seemed to respond to the danger with stillness.  
“Are we finished?”  
“No. You haven’t paid your debt yet.”   
He felt her chest graze his as she looked into his eyes. One hand came to her chin, the other pressed her shoulder into the stone. His body did the pinning as he leaned down and kissed her.  
It took her a moment to struggle, but it was worth it when she did. He loved the way her body trembled against his in its resistance, gently at first, then with absoluteness. When he came away, her expression was the most beautiful he’d ever seen it.  
“Your first one?”   
He was not exactly teasing — it was a confirmation too. She turned her face aside.  
“It wasn’t yours to take.”  
His laughter was metallic, easy; it unsettled her in its detachment.  
“It was suitable payment. Your debt is cleared.”  
“Then let me go.”  
He did it as a cat might, with a readiness to catch her again when he wanted. She did not show her back to him as she summoned her bag with a spell, nor as she moved to the door.  
“I’d like you to leave me alone.” She said it with her fingers on the door handle.  
“I might if you really wanted to be left.”  
Now his smile was less of an inward thing. He seemed to scrape her feelings together and keep them for himself.  
“I do.”  
“Very well. In that case, I suggest you do something about that look in your eyes. There’s no mistaking the desire.”  
She stiffened.  
“Goodnight then, Hogwarts Champion,” he waved, once again skirting ease and insistence in a way that made her feel like he was playing with food, “Enjoy your dreams.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next evening Claudia resolved to see her uncle. At dinner, she displayed her most candid self; the liveliest place in the hall was where she sat. She finished her meal quickly and, as soon as she was certain her uncle would be in his office, went to him. Dumbledore was depositing memories into the pensieve when she arrived, and he did not seem surprised when she opened the door without knocking.   
“Do you have a moment?” her hand had not left the door handle.  
“Always.” he shook his wand slightly and the memory he was extracting fell into the pensieve. A forget-me-not glow watermarked the walls.  
“Please don’t rush on my account.” and she seated herself at the very edge of the chair she usually occupied when visiting him. Above her, Phineas Nigellus was grooming his moustache in his portrait. Upon seeing her, the wizard greeted her with a heartiness usually difficult to exact from him. He and Claudia spoke for some time, while the hooting of owls sounded from the castle grounds. As Dumbledore waved the pensieve away and eased himself into his chair, the conversation ceased.  
“It’s unusual to see you at this time.” he said, “What’s bothering you?”  
“Tom Riddle.”   
Dippet looked over the book he was reading from his portrait.  
“Elaborate.” Dumbledore rested his chin on his index finger.  
“He doesn't work at the ministry. Why is he at Hogwarts?”  
“A good question. I have been asking Ringwood for some time, but he’s been awfully vague.”  
“You didn’t invite him to judge?”  
“No, it was a ministry decision.”  
She turned away.  
“I thought as much. I don’t trust him.”  
“A wise decision.”  
“He—” It was unusual for her to hesitate, “He’s unsettling.”  
Fawkes crooned slightly. Claudia reached over to stroke him. Dumbledore waited.  
“He offered me private lessons, but I took Abigail Anning. He didn’t like that.” There was something beautiful in the anarchic rhythm of her laughter. Dumbledore acquiesced a smile which was neither complete nor unfinished.  
“What do you think he wants, uncle?”  
“I imagine he wants knowledge.”  
“Of what?”  
His pause was long enough for her to know there was something in it that he needed her to find for herself.  
“Many things.”  
A knock at the door. He patted Claudia’s shoulder as she stood to leave, and it felt like a touch which had things in it that weren’t ready yet.

Claudia did not speak to Riddle again. When he seized her gaze from across the great hall, she would turn away, slowly enough to be left with his decadent smile, too fast to see the thread of impatience that seemed to sew into an expression he was saving for later. All her friends were captivated; he charmed them one by one and, one by one, they came to her with tales of him. One evening, she even saw him talking with Regulus. The two of them were standing by the lake, lit by the gracious moonlight. Claudia was certain that neither of them had seen her, but she noticed that Riddle was standing unusually still, his hands in his pockets and his hair defying the breeze.

He knew she was waiting for him outside the Slytherin common room before he saw her. Claudia was like that: she arrived in the voices of others before she arrived in person. Had this been any other Sunday in his life, Regulus would’ve been delighted to see her. He would’ve stopped what he was doing, and he would not have kept her waiting. What stopped this was Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle, who understood what one wanted, but not in the way one wanted. Tom Riddle, who gathered bouquets of promises from all. Tom Riddle, who seemed to recognise that Regulus was in love with Claudia Black without speaking about it at all. There was no way of establishing, for certain, if he knew, or how he knew, or whether it was bad that he knew — all Regulus had was a feeling. Somehow, he sensed that, as soon as he met Riddle, a sudden perilousness had come to his feelings that hadn’t existed before — as if his lips were the cliff edge, and to utter those feelings would cause them to fall from a lethal height. It was as if this strange man would be what pushed them to their death.  
Regulus didn’t leave the common room. He shrugged when his friends told him that Claudia was waiting, and he tried to remain impassive when they spoke about how jealous they were. For some time, his homework became his fortress, and he did not look up from it until Claudia entered the common room and stood before him. He managed not to glance at her until she was standing close enough for him to smell roses. A look of anger — the kind she regularly unleashed on Sirius — was what he expected. But when he met her eyes, she smiled her candle-flame smile with just enough brightness to make the darkness disappear, but not enough for safety. Without speaking, she took the quill out of his hands, laid it on his book, and walked out of the common room. That she knew with absoluteness that he would follow her ambushed his Slytherin pride, but he was hers before he was Slytherin’s. Out in the corridor, in the ardent dungeon fires, she looked particularly lovely.  
“Did you have to bring the rest of your house with you?” she looked beyond him with feline amusement.  
“Was I followed?”  
“Watch.” Claudia’s rebellious giggle was what the Slytherins called her ‘irresistible sound’. She whispered a spell that Regulus didn’t recognise, then looked past him to the gaggle of students trying to hide behind the stone wall. She watched with such intent that Regulus turned too. Many of the students made noises of disbelief, and muttered to one another:  
“I don’t believe it.”  
“Oh God.”  
Regulus felt Claudia giggling though she was not touching him.  
“What did you do?”  
“I’m giving them a show.”  
“I don’t understand.”  
“Legillimency.” she giggled again, “They’re witnessing us have an intense row about your acromantula…”  
“I don’t have an acromantula.”  
“They’ll think you do from now on.” Claudia’s caterpillar giggle metamorphosed into laughter. “Come, we’ll leave them to it.”  
Had this been any other Sunday, he would have followed her without thinking of anything; he would have delighted in her gentle insurgency. But as he began walk after her, he saw Tom Riddle at the end of the corridor. When he looked back again, the man was gone.  
“I was thinking that we’ll go to the disused astronomy classroom. Did you know I made an expanding room there? It’s behind the whiteboard. We won’t be overheard.”  
As she spoke, Regulus thought of how confidently she walked, of how she always knew where she was going.  
“You want a private conversation?”  
“Naturally.”  
His second thought, as her cloak phantomed against his shins, was that he loved the way she said simple things.  
Someone moved in his peripheral vision. He halted and turned. Claudia was some distance away before she stopped.  
“I won’t admonish you about your acromantula.” it was said with a skirting of humour that wasn’t really intended to be funny — it was space for her to watch him. “Who have you seen, Regulus?”  
The ‘who’ was what made him glance at her. When their eyes met, she surprised him again.  
“Come.” she said, with a lack of command that anyone would have obeyed, “I’ve cast an anti-trace charm on us. Anyone following is following only in your mind. I have a charm for that too, but you have to trust me.”  
Even from so far away, she made herself sound close. Regulus didn’t know if it was magic or the way she was.  
“Trust me, Regulus.”  
And he did. But the mistrust of Riddle was stronger. When he followed Claudia to the Astronomy classroom, then through the blackboard, he did so with a shadow that didn’t feel like his own. They emerged in a field, under a night sky of every constellation he could remember. Only then did his shadow become his own. Grass, up to his shins, gave the wind a voice, and he could see hundreds of roses sipping the starlight. This place and Claudia smelled the same, and he wondered if she smelt like roses because of the time she spent here.  
“Look,” she had neared him and was pointing at the sky, “Can you see your star?”  
“It’s not usually so pronounced.”  
“That’s because I made this place, and made your star especially lovely. It’s my important star.” She said it like she said less beautiful things. “Sirius, too.”  
The feeling was a downward thing. Had he any of his brother’s bravery, he would have asked her a question with no way back. She seemed to know that he was in the moment before a significant change. There was a stillness to him — his whole body was the fist around the opportunity he would let go.  
“What’s different?” she spoke to his star.  
“Nothing.”  
“You’re not yourself.”  
“Who am I if not myself?”  
“Good question. It’s hard to recognise you.” her hand went to his shoulder, “Look. A falling star.”  
She felt him nod.  
“It’s lovely.” he said.  
“It’s yours.”  
They watched as the star fell as far as it could. Once it had disappeared and the night had healed, she took his hand.  
“Tom Riddle collects stars.”  
She did not look toward him as she spoke, but still she knew that he had recoiled.  
“You can do what you like, Regulus. It’s your life, they’re your choices. Only…” her fingers came away from him, “Be careful, okay?”  
And she left him in the place, and the words, and the doubt she’d created.


	5. Chapter 5

He knew her habits by now: dinner at six, followed by a trip to the library, or directly to the Ravenclaw common room on a Thursday. On Friday, she and many students from all houses convened in an old classroom that she enchanted into a Maldivian beach, laughing, playing and dancing until Slughorn moved them on late in the evening. At the weekends, she was unpredictable, and he liked that she was able to elude him with her spontaneity.  
The day before the first Triwizard task, Riddle was invited to the beach party. He attended with an unremarkable Slytherin seventh year girl and stayed until he saw Claudia hugging her friends goodbye. Unlike her cohort, Claudia didn’t drink, and while a drunken girl would have been easier to deal with, he was pleased that she knew how to stay in control.  
He was waiting for her in the corridor, his shirt partly unbuttoned and his arms folded. As soon as she saw him, she acquiesced her most delightful smile and slowed enough to be polite, but not enough to be stopped.  
“Good evening, Mr Riddle.”  
“Evening.” he began walking in step with her, his hands behind his back. As usual, he used space to make her look at him.  
“I hope you enjoyed yourself.” Somehow, all her politeness became something else when she spoke to him. He smiled at the frilling of pretence in her voice.  
“You dance beautifully.”  
“Thank you.”  
It was an ungrateful thanks, and he loved what it truly meant.  
“A little showy, though. I think your dancing is lovelier when you don’t know you’re being watched.” he continued, his fingers easing their hold on one another. When she didn’t respond, he smiled.  
“I was surprised to see you partying when the tournament is so close.”  
“I don’t believe in last minute preparations.”  
“Perhaps you’d feel differently if you knew what you were facing.” He left a silence precisely long enough for him to dominate it, “It’s a Chimaera. They want you to take its collar.”  
It was delicious, the way she continued as if she hadn’t heard him, as if he had not given her something she now had to keep forever.  
“I hope you’re joking.” she said, her pace so undisturbed that he wanted to still it.  
“Why?”  
“Because I don’t like Chimaeras.”  
It was a sugar mouse lie.  
“They aren’t quite so intimidating as they seem,” he was watching her hair, watching the way it fell over her shoulder like she would fall over his, “You really only have to—”  
“Stop.”  
Finally, she faced him, her body in the middle of the corridor and her skin slightly flushed. “You realise how inappropriate it is that you’re sharing this with me?”  
“Yes.” He was smiling.  
“So you shouldn’t.”  
When his smile lounged a little further back, her anger helped itself to her face.  
“I didn’t want to know. It’s a monstrous advantage.”  
“Perhaps.”  
“You’ve put me in a difficult position.”  
The smile put up its feet, “I suppose it could be seen that way.”  
And, so easily that it was as if he hadn’t moved, Tom stepped closer to her. Her face rose as he neared.  
“You should tell Gaston and Dimitri, too.” she said.  
“Why? I have no loyalty to them.”  
And it was here, in his kindness that was just out of reach, that he caught her.  
“Because, I—” But she stopped speaking as he helped himself to the space directly in front of her. She glanced away, “I’ll tell them myself.”  
“That’s right.”  
It was a look that gave her no space. As she made to speak, his hand rose to her lips.  
“Tell them. Those two will be ever so grateful. They’ll want to give you every advantage, moving forward, in order to compensate for the gift you gave them…”  
This was the most gentle he would ever be with her mouth. “Even though they already know.”  
“What?”  
“Blaze already informed Dimitri. He saw the Chimaera as it was being housed within the grounds. Gaston was fortunate enough to overhear.”  
With utter elation, he felt the weight of this information on her bottom lip.  
“So, whether you like it or not, Miss Black, you’ve received a favour that will enable you to compete fairly in the competition.”  
And it was wonderful, the way the debt moved into her expression and softened it; he enjoyed the conflict of that grateful softness with her steely breathing.  
“Thank you.”  
It had not been difficult for her to say, but it had been costly: it made any future indifference toward him impossible. He smiled at the thanks like he smiled at an invitation, and his hand came away from her.  
“You’re welcome.”  
He turned and began to walk away. “Good luck.”  
Even though he could not see her, he knew that she watched him until he reached the end of the corridor.


End file.
